


naïve

by deathtouch



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Awkwardness, Biting, Blow Jobs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Father Figures, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Painful Sex, Power Dynamics, Scent Marking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 18:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30009018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathtouch/pseuds/deathtouch
Summary: ☛ in which john learns his place as an omega in the van der linde gang, alpha arthur learns his place under dutch, and dutch helps them both learn their lessons :)“You watching this, Arthur?” Dutch asked.John had almost forgotten he was here, and he grimaced, eyes squeezing shut due to a sudden bout of shame. Of course Arthur was watching, seeing everything, jerking himself off to the image of John being taken from behind.“Yes,” Arthur grumbled low.“What’s that?” Dutch bottomed out, pushing in as deep as possible. John grunted. “I didn’t hear you, son.”“Yes, alpha.” Arthur spit the words out like they tasted bad in his mouth.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde, John Marston/Arthur Morgan, John Marston/Arthur Morgan/Dutch van Der Linde, John Marston/Dutch van der Linde
Kudos: 23





	naïve

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ: I chose not to use archive warnings, but that doesn't mean that none apply!** The sex in this work could be read as non consensual. John's age isn't specified in this work, but it could be read as underage. This is a Dead Dove work; truly just a writer reveling in fucked-up content. Read ahead at your own risk!
> 
> written for my friend a few years ago. i was so proud of them for finishing college, and i wanted to write a cool fic in their honor. now i am so proud of them for being a career adult, and i'm happy to share this work to honor them further. 
> 
> and a very heartfelt thank you to my amazing beta [subwaywolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SubwayWolf/pseuds/SubwayWolf)!! i am truly nothing without him. he makes everything i've ever written so much better. thank you for all your hard work on this fic!

It was perhaps naïve of John to think no one would fuck him.

When he met Dutch van der Linde and his friends – no, his family – for the first time, they didn’t seem to care that he was an omega. They cared a little bit, enough to be curious about it. It just so happened that they cared about other things more, like what happened to his parents and why was he running from the law already when he was so damn young? Could he read and write? That’s okay, they would show him how. Could he hunt and fish? That’s okay, they would teach him that, too. Could he make himself useful around camp? Of course he could.

He thought he would be stuck doing the boring things - omega’s work, like cooking, tending the fire, washing clothes. He did that, sometimes, when Mrs. Grimshaw needed help. He did other things too, though. He sat with Mr. Matthews - Hosea - and copied letters onto blank pages, trying to make sense of them. He followed Arthur’s movements, learning how to clean the guns and then eventually how to shoot them. He already knew how to tend horses and did that without being told, proving to everyone he wasn’t worthless.

He learned things he didn’t even know he was learning. In a few short years, he knew everything there was to know about being an outlaw; conning people, how to evade the law, thieving, looting, and grifting. He knew so damn much that they even took him with on jobs, and not just to be look-out either.

Sometimes they talked about him being an omega. Mostly they showed him how he could use it to his advantage. They didn’t really talk about the other parts. The part where he was expected to service every alpha he met just because they were alphas and he was an omega. The part where he was just a hole for them to fill with their knot. The part where it was his duty to take care of any alpha who might be frustrated or in his rut.

So far as John could tell, they didn’t think of him like that. Sometimes, Dutch would ask him about what he was going to do when he got older, what kind of mate he wanted, those sorts of questions. Whenever that happened, John would find his ears burning red hot as he looked at anyone and anything other than Arthur Morgan.  
  
It was stupid. Arthur wasn’t interested in him. He could get anyone he wanted, if not by his nature alone than by taking with brute force. He didn’t care about John. Not in that way. John knew it was dumb to harbor any feelings of affection, and he did his damnedest to ignore the ones he had, but it was easier said than done.  
  
It all changed when Arthur went into a rut. No, that wasn’t quite right. That’s when it happened physically, but John sensed a change before that. One night when they were sitting around the fire.

Dutch looked over at him, staring hard through the flickers of yellow and orange flame, bright light glinting in his eyes. John felt the itch of an alpha staring at him and although he had learned by now not to squirm, he couldn’t help jerking his head up.  
  
“What?” John asked, interrupting the comfortable quiet.  
  
“Say, John, how long have you been with us?” Dutch asked distractedly. “Five years or so? That about right?”  
  
“Something like that,” John muttered in reply. He didn’t know. He wasn’t so good at keeping track of time.   
  
“Something like that,” Dutch repeated, scratching his bottom lip with his thumb.  
  
Arthur’s scribbling had stopped where he was doodling away in that journal of his, drawing infuriatingly good little drawings that always made John’s look dumb in comparison. He had looked up, too, and now John felt two sets of alpha’s eyes boring into him, staring him down. He frowned.  
  
He should have known right then and there what was going to happen. They still treated him the same, save for the occasional long stares when they thought he wasn’t looking, ones that made his shoulder blades itch. Then Arthur went into his rut and it all went to hell.

It wasn’t like it was the first time Arthur, or Dutch, or any of the alphas for that matter had gone into a rut. It was just that it was the first time it had happened so far from civilization. The gang liked staying on the edges of polite society, far away from any big towns with big clouds of black factory smoke hanging overhead and big sheriff’s departments just waiting to hunt them down for the slightest infraction.

They usually weren’t out in the middle of absolute nowhere. Not unless they were on the move from one blossoming or dwindling township to the next. There was always a saloon, a general store, a whorehouse nearby to provide them with drink, and supplies, and omegas, should the situation call for any number of those things.

Except here they were out in the middle of nowhere, nothing but grassy knolls and gently rolling hills for miles to see. They were at least a day’s ride from the next town, and that was a generous estimate. Normally that would be fine. They had enough to last them the next few weeks before they would need to reconvene with the rest of society. If not for material goods than for the thrill of pulling a job, to be sure.

Arthur had been acting all agitated for days, meaner than usual. He liked to annoy John sometimes, pick on him until he snapped back. He didn’t really mean it, though. Only Arthur wasn’t being playful this time around, he was being unkind. Not just to John either, to everyone. Mrs. Grimshaw tried to smack some sense into him but not even that worked.  
  
It was almost a relief when his rut came. At least they had a reason as to why he was acting the way he was acting. That, and a good guess as to when he might come back around all sheepish and apologetic, remembering each and every embarrassing and unfriendly thing he’d done.  
  
John was putting the finishing touches on setting up one of the tents when Dutch came to find him, pulling him aside with a heavy hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Let’s you and I have a conversation, son,” he said.  
  
Camp wasn’t too far spread out, so it didn’t take long to reach Dutch’s tent. As they walked over to it, Dutch said his piece.  
  
“I am sorry to have to ask you to do this, John, but Arthur’s in a bad way. He needs an omega to see these next few days through, and you’re the best man for the job.”  
  
An omega to see what through? His rut? John frowned a little.  
  
He wasn’t the only omega. Mrs. Grimshaw spent her nights with Dutch sometimes. She could… John remembered her slapping Arthur across the face hard enough to leave a red mark and figured Dutch was right, he was the best man for the job. He still wasn’t sure about all this though.  
  
“I don’t know, Dutch,” he said, and felt immediately bad for even deigning to disagree with the man who had done so much for him, the man he had intended to be loyal to no matter what. “I ain’t even had my first heat yet. I don’t think I’m really… cut out for helping alphas with that kinda thing.”  
  
They stopped outside of Dutch’s tent, the biggest one in the entire camp. Not that that was saying much. John caught the scent of something curious on the inside, oozing out through the canvas. It wasn’t the usual scent of an alpha, the way they got kinda musky after a long day’s ride or hours spent in the hot sun. It was sharp, like rot gut whiskey, but delicious and warm. It made him want to drool. John found himself swallowing audibly.  
  
“Nonsense.” Dutch squeezed his shoulder. “Every omega is suited for this. I know you’re feeling unsure, and that’s more than reasonable, but we can’t leave poor Arthur to suffer. Can we? We always take care of our own. Don’t we?”  
  
John thought of all the things Arthur had ever done for him. Little stuff, like passing him an extra piece of bread when the food supply was thin. Standing in front of him with his big barrel chest and his arms crossed when an alpha looked like they might move in on John the wrong way. Going fishing with him when no one else would. Helping him with his aim when he first learned to fire a gun. He supposed he did owe Arthur this.  
  
It’s not like he had a problem with Arthur mating him. He just wished the circumstances were a little different, that was all.  
  
“I’ll help,” John agreed.  
  
Dutch smiled, flashing his teeth. “That’s my boy.” He motioned towards the tent, insinuating John should go in first.  
  
John pulled back the canvas flap and was almost knocked clean back by that scent, stronger now than before. He could feel it doing things to him. It made his heart plummet all the way down to the pit of his stomach. Since his feet apparently decided he ought not to get any closer, it took Dutch taking hold of his hips and guiding him inside for him to move.

Arthur was in there, of course. He was half naked like he’d torn off his clothes in a hurry and didn’t quite finish the job. He was laying on Dutch’s cot which somehow seemed more peculiar than the clothes being hastily stripped away. No one else but Dutch slept there. It was just odd. He had one arm thrown across his face, eyes hidden in the crook of his elbow. The other he was using to vigorously jerk himself off, fist wrapped around his thick alpha cock. His knot was already swollen and engorged, and he paused to squeeze it desperately.

John’s first instinct was to turn right back around and walk away; pretend he hadn’t seen anything. He’d done as much before. Usually anyone intent on pleasuring themselves would find a reclusive place to do it away from camp. Not always, though. Accidentally walking in on something he wasn’t meant to see had happened more than once.

Except John couldn’t go anywhere. This was what he was here for. Not only that, Dutch was still behind him, still had his hands on John’s hips, holding him steady.

Arthur shifted his arm, peering out at him from under it. Despite being in the thick of his rut, he didn’t seem faded or lost. There was intensity to his stare that literally sent a chill down John’s spine. He felt himself shiver. Arthur didn’t say anything, but he did start stroking himself faster, as if he hadn’t been going at it ferociously enough.

“Let’s get you out of those clothes,” Dutch suggested helpfully.

He did most of the work, really. He pressed up close to John, bodies flush against each other, and reached around to undo all the necessary buttons. John tried to help but his fingers were fumbling things. He couldn’t focus. He was grateful Dutch was there to do it for him.

He’d never been naked in front of either Dutch or Arthur before, much less both at the same time. He’d never been naked in front of any alpha at all. Now he was stark nude in front of two of them. He kept his hands at his sides, unwilling to play the part of the shy omega who instantly tried to cover themselves up as soon as they were exposed.

He wasn’t sure what to do after Dutch had helped him out of his clothes. Was he just supposed to climb in bed with Arthur? Mount him? Sit down on that big alpha cock of his and take it? John found himself blushing hot red without meaning to. He always kind of thought the alpha was supposed to do the initiating and the leading...

“Down on your knees,” Dutch guided him, talking from behind him. It seemed as good a suggestion as any, so John went, kneeling down in the soft grass. “Good. Just like that. Why don’t you get down on all fours?”

He got on his hands and knees like Dutch wanted, still not entirely sure how this was going to help Arthur. John didn’t know if it was the scent in the air making him compliant, or the pressure to prove himself to not one but two alphas. Either way, he found himself going along with all this real willing.

He felt a warm palm at the center of his back, between his shoulder blades. Dutch’s hand. It pushed him down and down and down until his cheek was pressed to the ground and his ass was high in the air. He was presenting himself good and proper, a position that would have made him blush if he wasn’t blushing already. He heard Arthur growl, a rumble coming from his chest, and John sucked in a breath at the sound.

Dutch made a thoughtful noise. “Not too wet, are you? What’s the matter, son? Not excited to please your alpha?“ As he spoke, he got down low, kneeling behind John to spread his cheeks wide. His thumb slid over the exposed hole.

John was indeed only a little slick back there. There was no way he could catch the scent of an alpha’s rut and not respond. His body wasn’t really ready for this kind of thing, though. Not yet.  
  
When he was ready to be mated, he would go into heat. Dutch knew good and well John hadn’t gone into heat yet. Everyone in camp knew that. It would be a big to-do when it finally happened; their little omega all grown up.

“Dutch?” John tried to look back, over his shoulder. “What are y-ah!”

Dutch pushed his thumb in, unannounced. He tugged downwards on the rim of John’s hole. It was the first and only thing John had ever had inside him. It didn’t hurt or anything, but it felt strange. Strange enough that he found himself inadvertently pulling away.

“Stay right where you are, John,” Dutch said, voice going somewhere stern with that fatherly tone he used sometimes. “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea about who the alpha is around here, so I’ll need to have my way with you before Arthur gets his chance. Not to mention, someone needs to loosen you up. You’re so tight.”

Arthur‘s low and aggressive growl - which had been rumbling this whole time - spiked in volume at that last comment.

Before he realized what was happening, John recognized the clinking sound of a belt buckle coming undone. Dutch undid his pants and took his own cock out. He was hard already.  
  
With one hand he reached out to curl his fingers around John’s hip, holding him steady. With the other hand he guided the head of cock to John’s entrance. He pushed it in or tried to. It was so damn big it didn’t quite slide in easy. John sucked in a breath through his teeth, fingers digging into the earth.

“Easy,” Dutch gentled him. “Easy, now.”

He was relentless. He pushed in and in and in until John’s tight hole flowered open, accepting the alpha’s cock. John cried out, not meaning to, but the noise escaped him anyway. He knew omegas were supposed to be able to receive effortlessly, but he was struggling. Dutch’s cock was so big around, John’s hole was being stretched far too much at once.

John had always thought his first time would be during his heat, wet and ready for it, desperately begging for Arthur… for an alpha to take him. Not on his hands and knees in Dutch’s tent, barely slick enough to make it easy, gripping the grass in his fists and biting his bottom lip to keep from making any more embarrassing noises.

It didn’t hurt, exactly, but it didn’t feel good. Especially not when Dutch started fucking him in earnest, slow and steady. The push and pull and harsh drag of a hot cock against John’s inner walls and through his tight hole was a little too much friction to be pleasurable. John thought maybe he could see how it felt good, if he ignored all the bad stuff. It was just really hard to ignore the bad stuff.

“You watching this, Arthur?” Dutch asked.

John had almost forgotten he was here, and he grimaced, eyes squeezing shut due to a sudden bout of shame. Of course Arthur was watching, seeing everything, jerking himself off to the image of John being taken from behind.

“Yes,” Arthur grumbled low.

“What’s that?” Dutch bottomed out, pushing in as deep as possible. John grunted. “I didn’t hear you, son.”

“Yes, alpha.” Arthur spit the words out like they tasted bad in his mouth.

Dutch went back to pounding into John then. Had to use both hands to hold his hips steady and keep him from sliding forward. He kept at it until he was all sweaty, the heavy scent of his alpha musk mixing with Arthur’s. It made John feel like he was drowning, couldn’t catch a proper breath.

He wasn’t sure how long he was stuck presenting his hole to be taken, gripping the grass, breathing labored and slow, taking and taking and taking what Dutch gave him. He was surprised when it all stopped, though. A sense of relief washed over him. He looked back to see what was happening. He hadn’t been knotted? Had he? So why...?

Dutch, still mostly clothed with just his cock out, was fisting himself in his hand. He came, arching his back a little with the pleasure of it. Thick ropes of white come landed on John’s back, on his pale skin. Load after load of it. Dutch kept stroking himself, coaxing out more and more. When his orgasm was finished, he heaved a heavy breath and relaxed back on his heels.

John moved, like he was going to push his face up from the ground, and one sharp look from Dutch told him no, not to move an inch. After a few long moments, Dutch reached out to rub his come in, smoothing it into John’s skin with the flat of his palm.

“There we go.” He seemed satisfied when it was done. “You’re all mine, now. Aren’t you John?”

“Yes, alpha,” John agreed, because he knew it was the right thing to say.

Dutch glanced over at Arthur, who was frowning. “Yes, alpha,” he agreed too.

“Alright. Have a go at him, Arthur. You’ve been waiting patient enough.”

John didn’t have time to process any of this. Here he was about to get fucked by the alpha he’d been pining for for so long. Loathe as he was to admit his feelings, he knew they were there, deep down underneath it all. He should feel excited, pleased, happy... something.

The only things he felt were physical. Arthur kneeling up behind him, getting in place. The head of his cock, not quite as fat around as Dutch’s as it pushed into his hole. John sucked in a breath, nails digging into the dirt. Arthur may not have been as thick as Dutch, but he was longer. He pushed his cock in shamelessly, shoving it deep. Arthur’s knot was already engorged and swollen. He tried to shove that in too, but it didn’t work, John was too tight.

“Fuck,” John hissed. “Hurts.”

“Quiet,” Arthur gruffed at him, likely because John grimacing and complaining didn’t make things particularly appealing.

He pulled back and pushed in again, attempting to shove his knot in again.

“Keep at it, Arthur. Slow and steady.” Dutch said, leisurely watching the affair, coaching from afar.

It took a few more tries before Arthur finally managed to pop that thick knot of his in passed John’s tight hole. They both cried out when it happened, one of them in pain and the other in pleasure. Arthur draped himself over John’s back, pressing as much skin together as he could. He was panting, hips twitching forward.

John realized too late that they were stuck like this for however long it would take for Arthur’s knot to go down, which was a shame because he wanted to shove Arthur away and tell him off for being indelicate as always. Only this time was worse than usual because he was doing the one thing where some care and consideration mattered. All John could do was stay stuck in position as Arthur unloaded hot come into him, knot sealing the seed in as well as sealing their bodies together.

After a while, Dutch got bored of watching the two of them pant. He stood up and patted Arthur on the shoulder. “Good job, son. Take as much time with John as you need. John, you behave for Arthur until he’s feeling like himself again.”

They both “yes, alpha”'d him as he left the tent, and the two of them to their own devices.

When Arthur’s knot was deflated enough that he could pull out, he did. John hissed softly in pain. He thought maybe he was going to be given a moment’s peace, but he wasn’t so lucky, it seemed. Arthur sat back on his heels and delved into John’s fucked-open hole with two fingers. Even that insertion, small as it was, made John want to squirm away.

“Stay still,” Arthur grumbled. “Good Lord. I never met an omega tight as you before.” He said it like it was a bad thing.

“Yeah, well I never met an alpha as mean and ugly as you. Get your fingers out of me, or so help me God-“

Arthur relented, pulling his fingers free. They were all tacky with his alpha seed, and he wiped them off on John’s lower back. He just had to. Couldn’t let Dutch be the only one to mark his territory. John wanted to go running to the nearest wash basin or running river and scrub himself clean.

He wasn’t exactly free to go running anywhere though. Dutch as much as told him to stay here and keep presenting himself and not do much of anything else. Arthur wasn’t entirely keen on letting him go either.

Somehow, without meaning to, John let himself get talked into curling up on top of Arthur in Dutch’s cot. Well, he wasn’t really talked into it. Mostly he got growled at and pulled around until they were settled together.  
  
It was uncomfortable. The cot wasn’t big enough for two. He had to lay directly on top of Arthur, curled up kind of, his head resting on Arthur’s chest. The scent of his rut was so strong John had a hard time thinking.

He wasn’t going to cry, because he hadn’t cried since he was a baby, and this was nothing to go sniveling about. He was so achingly disappointed, though. This had all gone so wrong. He wasn’t supposed to lose his virginity like that. It was supposed to be different... better.

He didn’t even want one, but he hadn’t gotten a mating bite from either Arthur or Dutch and it made him mad. So, they could use him, knot him, come in him and all over him, tell him what to do, keep him from leaving so they could use him again... but they weren’t going to deign to claim him proper?

“I hate you, Arthur Morgan,” John whispered viciously when his eyes started to burn.

He felt some type of way about Dutch too, in that moment, but couldn’t bring himself to admit hate. Not against a man who had done so much for him. Hating Arthur was nothing, though. John told him as much before, said he hated his guts and hoped he’d rot in hell for much lesser offenses.

Arthur wasn’t in his right mind to argue. Didn’t perk up with a curious lilt in his voice to ask, “well what’d I do this time?”. Instead he just growled, deep and low, and John was cowed back into stubborn silence.

Arthur fucked him again; knotted him twice more. It got a little easier each time, but not much. If he complained about it or groaned unhappily or even made a grimacing face, Arthur would go and gruff at him for being a displeasure. John had to grit his teeth and bare it.

By the next morning, he was so sore he could barely move. Arthur was feeling a little better though. His scent wasn’t as strong, and he didn’t seem as determined to clutch John close or mark him or knot him or anything. He let John leave, and John wasn’t exactly going to wait around for him to change his mind. He gathered up his clothes quick and went limping off to find some well-earned solitude.

He was sure everyone in the camp knew what had happened. If they hadn’t heard the noises coming from the tent, surely they could smell it on him. He hurried to wash himself, to scrub the scent of rut and alpha seed and Arthur and Dutch off him. He just wanted things to go back to normal. He wanted to forget that any of it had ever happened.

He wasn’t allowed to go back to his usual routine until after he drank some Sweet Night tea, named as such because it was meant to be had after alphas and omegas spent a sweet night together. Sweet though the name may be, the actual tea wasn’t sweet at all. It was awful.

“Just a precaution,” they told him. “You haven’t had your first heat yet, so it’s unlikely the seed will catch, but go ahead and drink this anyway.”

John had the distinct displeasure of choking it down, the whole damn pot of it. He gagged his way through it, hating the taste, but he knew he had to drink it all.  
  
He felt sick to his stomach for hours afterwards. He went to bed and shivered all night long in his bedroll, body aching. He hardly slept, just shook in pain. He wasn’t sure if he was reacting so badly because it was his first time drinking Sweet Night tea, or if his body wasn’t ready for this the same way it hadn’t been ready for his first heat, or his first knot.

In the morning, when everyone else got to work packing up camp John was told he could sit this one out. He hated being the useless weak link, but he could barely move much less break down tents or pack up supplies or ready the horses. Someone else got his mount saddled up for him and walked the animal over to him.

He didn’t remember much of the procession towards the next town, just trying to keep his eyes open and grip the reigns at the same time. He could feel the alphas’ eyes on him, watching him, and for some reason that made it worse. He could hear Dutch up ahead, leading the pack, asking if they ought to stop awhile.

“M’fine,” John insisted, before slumping the wrong way and sliding clean off his horse.

He didn’t really remember hitting the ground, or what happened after. His next fuzzy memory was on his hands and knees puking his guts out in a nearby jagger bush. Arthur had a hand on his back, keeping him steady.  
  
After that he found himself sitting on back of Arthur’s horse, the alpha’s arms wrapped around him to hold the reigns. John had half a mind to be embarrassed and angry that he couldn’t ride by himself, but his misery and exhaustion outweighed his outrage. He just leaned back against Arthur’s broad chest and let it happen.  
  
It took John days to feel right again, but eventually he came around. It took Arthur even longer. Sure, enough he got all sheepish and apologized to everyone else for how he’d acted before his rut. He even took time out to thank Mrs. Grimshaw for ‘keeping him in line’. (Damn kowtowing apple polisher.)  
  
He had nothing to say to John, though. Resolutely, he ignored him like he wasn’t there. John was mad enough and stubborn enough to ignore him right back! That wasn’t to say they had nothing to do with each other. The opposite, in fact. See, now that John had given himself up and been fucked - and subsequently knotted - he was apparently fair game. Never mind the fact that he still hadn’t had his first heat yet, and had no clue when it would come.

It wasn’t too long after Arthur’s rut that Dutch pulled him aside, the way Dutch was wont to do, and walked John back to his tent. There, they started talking about all those parts they usually never talked about. The part where he was expected to service every alpha he met just because they were alphas and he was an omega. The part where he was just a hole for them to fill with their knot. The part where it was his duty to take care of any alpha who might be frustrated or in his rut. Apparently, they did think of John like that.

The way Dutch worded it though, it got all twisted up in John’s head. He wasn’t just another omega, he was their family, their kin. They needed him. They would be there for him when he went into heat, and he would be there for them in return. It was an even trade, fair is fair. It sounded so reasonable…

John tried not to be hurt, but it did hurt. He hadn’t spent these last few years of his life trying to make something of himself just to become the camp bitch. It was easy to blame Arthur for it, so he did. Goddamned Arthur Morgan and his God-forsaken rut, ruining everything.

It was because of Arthur that John ended up in Dutch’s tent practically every other night, coaxed out of his clothes, guided onto his hands and knees until he was presenting himself the way Dutch liked. The way all alphas liked. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t slick, or if he was sore from the night before, or if he didn’t want to do it. Dutch fucked him good and hard anyway.

He never finished inside, though. There were two good reasons for that. The first being that if he did come inside John, John would have to drink more of that awful Sweet Night tea. That would put him out of commission for a few days and there was no sense in that. The other reason was because he liked to mark his territory by coming on John’s skin, rubbing it in so the scent took.

John hated it. It wasn’t so bad when Dutch was just anointing his back, or the cheeks of his ass. It was when Dutch started getting bold, switching things up, going further and filthier each time. He made John do it, use his own fingers to scoop the seed up and rub it in. Not on his back, though, because he couldn’t reach back there. On his chest, collarbones, his lips.

Without fail, Arthur would find him afterwards. Arthur who still hadn’t said a word of apology since his rut. Arthur who barely spoke to him around camp anymore, only out of necessity and even then, he used as few words as possible. Arthur who regressed to nothing more than low growling whenever John came stumbling out of Dutch’s tent thoroughly debauched, just-fucked and sticky all over with alpha seed.

Other omegas would probably give anything just to have this. Attention from not one but two alphas, almost fighting over him. Not that Arthur would ever raise so much as his voice to Dutch much less a fist, but he was making his possessive feelings good and clear.

Way back, before all this rut business, Dutch used to ask John what kind of mate he wanted. He never admitted to it, but this was what he’d been aching for all along. Arthur vying for his attention, desperate to be with him. Except now that he’d had it, John was realizing this wasn’t what he wanted at all.

He didn’t want to be jerked by the arm until he and Arthur were somewhere secluded. He didn’t want to be hastily stripped of his clothes. He didn’t want to be forced against the nearest hard surface and fucked hard for the second time that night. It always hurt when Arthur took him. Sore and stretched from Dutch’s cock, there was no pleasure in being fucked again.

Arthur would repaint him with come after, covering all the places Dutch had already marked him. Long after the seed had dried clear on his skin, invisible to the naked eye, Arthur still instinctively seemed to know where to cover. At least he didn’t make John do it himself. Somehow that was better, even if he was a little careless with his rough hands and calloused fingers. John always tried to turn his head away whenever Arthur touched his lips. That never stopped Arthur from applying the finishing touches where it mattered most.

John didn’t have the heart to fight back. His inner instincts were likely to blame. He couldn’t imagine why else he stayed his hand from hitting Arthur, beating on him, pushing him away. Maybe because he knew he wouldn’t win against him in a fight, older and bigger and stronger. Maybe because that was just the way omegas were, unable to fight back when it came to sex and mating. He hated being the weak omega, playing into the part like a bow playing the strings on a fiddle. He was so good at standing up for himself everywhere else, but against Arthur, he was embarrassingly helpless.

Unable to bring himself to fight back physically, he said mean things instead. He would curse Arthur, hurl insults at him, tell him he was nothing compared to an alpha like Dutch. That he was just as much Dutch’s bitch as John was, the way he cowed to him and called him alpha. Arthur would rumble angrily, or be aggressive with his touch, but he never said anything back.

Not until months after all this started with that first rut. He had just finished coming, hot seed running over his knuckles. He wiped most of it off on John’s collarbone where Dutch had done the same an hour or so before. He went to paint John’s lips with it, but John turned his head away like he always did, fighting it. 

Arthur got a good grip on his jaw with his free hand, forcing John to look at him. He paused, stuck still, a hard look in his blue eyes. He gave up suddenly; pulled back without slicking John’s mouth with his seed after all. There was something about that moment. He must have come to his senses about what he was doing.

“Shit,” he hissed, defeated. “Get out of here, Marston.”

John hesitated, unsure of what was happening; what had changed to make Arthur act this way.

“Go!” Arthur barked at him, and John took himself back to camp in a rush.

Then, the next morning, it was like everything had changed. John was minding his own business, sitting besides the fire, eating breakfast. Arthur was making himself busy just about everywhere nearby without actually coming over until finally he gave up whatever pretense had him hovering around conspicuously.

“I need a word with you,” Arthur said, coming to loom over John by standing next to him.

Still confused about the night before, John just frowned at him. “I’m busy.”

Arthur clenched his jaw and cursed. “Yeah, you look real busy sitting there like that. Jesus, John. Just get up and follow me.”

So, John went with him. They walked out towards a copse of trees in the distance just to have a place to go. “I wanted to say... what happened with me and my rut and you and... Well. I didn’t mean for it to go down like that.”

“Yeah, me neither,” John muttered.

“Dutch and Hosea... they didn’t raise me to treat omegas like this. I been thinking maybe you deserve different than the way I been acting. I’ll try and treat you better from now on.”

Was this… an apology? Go figure; an apology from him would neglect important things like actually saying ‘sorry’. John should have expected as much. It wasn’t like Arthur was a wordsmith or anything. For what it was worth, he did seem like he meant it. 

John guessed that maybe Arthur had finally realized there was no sense in trying to out-alpha Dutch. Being stronger and rougher and meaner and tougher wasn’t going to work. Or maybe Arthur finally realized just how little fun John was having in their battle to claim and fuck and scent-mark him. Finally, after all this time, he’d come around to be sheepish and apologetic with John like he’d done with everyone else. Took him long enough.

That sort of was the end of it. They didn’t bring it up again. Arthur stopped ignoring him though, and John stopped ignoring him right back. He actually started being gentle, too. Well, gentle for Arthur Morgan wasn’t exactly gentle, but it was better.

John stopped worrying so much about being an omega. At least he stopped worrying about the parts he’d been afraid of. The part where he was expected to service every alpha he met just because they were alphas and he was an omega. The part where he was just a hole for them to fill with their knot. The part where it was his duty to take care of any alpha who might be frustrated or in his rut.

Sure, he did those things, but not for every and any alpha. Only for Dutch and Arthur. He wasn’t _just_ a hole, though, and he had more duties than taking care of the two of them. He was still expected to contribute around camp in other ways. He was still brought along on jobs. He was still allowed to do more or less anything he wanted to.

The only bad thing about all this was that it still hurt every time. Even with Arthur being gentler, it still hurt. Even with how often he got fucked. Some days John thought he would never get used to it, that sex would never feel good.  
  
He supposed it didn’t matter how it felt for him, just so long as Dutch and Arthur were happy. Oh, and they were. Arthur, especially. He was so satisfied with the way his cock felt sliding deep into John’s body that he started getting starry eyed and romantic about it. He would mutter sweet nothings to John when they fucked. What started out as hungry, growled comments about his tight hole, or how perfect he felt inside, or how bad Arthur wanted to knot him evolved into something more.  
  
“When your heat comes, I’m going to be the one to claim you.” He whispered harshly, burying his nose in John's sweaty hair to catch the scent of him while he buried his cock deep inside the omega's body.

John hadn't thought to say anything in reply during sex, but then Arthur had to go and bring it up again. This time while they were riding back to camp from some run-down mining town they were settled outside of, making trouble and looking for ways they could score some money.  
  
"I'm going to ask Dutch," Arthur told him as they trotted their horses down the road.

"Ask Dutch what?"

"If I can claim you during your heat. Leave my mating bite on your neck where everyone can see."

Something instinctual and primal down in the pit of his stomach made John flush hot red, a weird ache roiling through him. He ducked his head, thankful for the hat he was wearing that would hide his face.  
  
"He won't let you."

"He might," Arthur disagreed, before digging his heels in and urging his mare to go faster.

Neither of them said anything about it again for the next few days. John still wasn't entirely convinced that Arthur was serious. Except, Arthur got real serious real quick.

"Dutch," Arthur said, one night while the sun was going down, casting its orange light on everything. "I got something I need to ask you."

Dutch was busy reading one of those philosophy books of his, the real boring ones that made John wish he'd never learned to read at all. He was relaxing in the chair that he kept in his tent, flaps wide open so the cool breeze could come rolling through. Anyone who wanted to could approach him when he was like this. He glanced up at Arthur curiously. John, who was watching from nearby, felt his stomach twist with nervousness.

"Well, sure, Arthur. What is it?" 

Arthur looked over his shoulder at John, raising up his eyebrows. "John, you better come, too."

Shit. John didn't want to get involved more than he already was. He came wandering over anyway, hoping it would be obvious that this wasn't his idea and he had nothing to do with it. He didn't think Dutch would be angry with them or anything, but he didn't know what would happen either. He didn't want to catch any blame.

"I'd like to claim John as my own, when his heat comes," Arthur announced rather matter-of-factly, like that was that.

A stark quiet followed his words.  
  
Just when the silence was starting to hurt Dutch spoke up. "Is that so?"

Arthur's resolve fizzled. He deflated a little. "If that's alright with you."

Finally closing his book, Dutch shook his head with real reluctance. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to do that, Arthur. I've been lenient enough letting you have your way with him and mark him up after I'm through with him."

Arthur's eyes flickered over to John's and they shared a guilty look. Of course, Dutch had to know what they were up to. There was little that went on with the gang that he wasn’t aware of. Knowing he knew and hearing him say it out loud were too very different things. 

John opened his mouth to speak, to explain himself or something, but Dutch held up a hand to keep him quiet.

"Now, I'm an open-minded man. I don't think there's anything wrong with an omega with more than one mating bite." Not the usual stance anyone took on omegas. They were meant to mate for life, not get bit by any and every alpha who stuck it in them. "Let's say that happened with John, here. Suppose I let you knot him and bite him during his heat after I have. How is John to know who the alpha is between the two of us? The one who he should obey implicitly?"

John was smart enough to know that Dutch was above everyone else in the gang, mating bites and scent marks be damned. He resented the fact that Dutch was painting him to be an idiot, but he knew better than to open his mouth at the moment. He was none-too-pleased that he'd been roped into this conversation to begin with. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself.

"Of course he knows who the alpha is, Dutch. We all do," Arthur told him.  
  
“It’s good that you have faith in him, son. I don’t doubt John either, but I’m not sure you understand what you’re asking.”  
  
Arthur didn’t look ready to give up, but he also looked like he didn’t know what to say. The words were stuck somewhere in his mind and all he could do was stare at Dutch with a hard, determined expression on his face.  
  
“Listen, Arthur.” Dutch stood up from his chair. He set his book down on his seat and reached out to rest a hand on Arthur’s broad shoulder, “There is one way it could work, but I’m not entirely sure you’d be willing.”  
  
That was how Arthur ended up on his knees at Dutch’s feet, face burning red. He raised up his hands to help with Dutch’s belt, but Dutch easily pushed them away.

“Behind your back,” he ordered instead.

Arthur went along with it and put his hands behind his back. He looked up expectantly, waiting.

John had been ordered to “sit right there,” on Dutch’s cot “and watch.” So, he was sitting right there on Dutch’s cot, watching it all go down, face burning about as red as Arthur’s was. He wasn’t sure how it had escalated to this, or if he was even worth all the trouble Arthur was going through. He wasn’t going to say anything to stop it, though. He knew better than to get between two alphas in any situation, especially one like this.

Dutch took that thick alpha cock of his out. It was so damn wide around the middle. He wasn’t even hard yet, but the size was unmistakable even when he was soft.

Arthur‘s throat convulsed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. He knew what he was getting himself into when he got down on his knees, but now that he was staring his thick fate in the face, he seemed to be hesitating some. John couldn’t blame him. He’d had that cock up his ass enough times to know it felt every inch as big as it looked.

Dutch wrapped his ringed fingers around his length and gave it a few strokes, bringing it to life.

“Open,” he ordered.

Arthur opened his mouth.

“Watch your teeth,” Dutch reminded him. Still gripping his cock in hand, he lined the tip of it up with Arthur’s bottom lip. He waited a beat for the reminder to really sink in before he let his cock slide into Arthur’s warm, waiting mouth.

Impressively enough, Arthur took almost all of it before he gagged. His hands flew up from behind his back and he planted his palms on Dutch’s hips as if to push him away. Dutch wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed a fist full of Arthur’s hair and bottomed out, pushing his cock in as deep as he could. Arthur convulsed, and he made sickly sweet gagging noises all wet and desperate.

When Dutch pulled back, Arthur coughed helplessly. Big tears had sprung to his eyes. He struggled to catch his breath.

“Sure you can handle this, son?”

“I can handle it,” Arthur said back, determined.

Dutch shrugged a little as if to say ‘suit yourself’ before he slid his cock back in again.

Arthur was a mess at giving head. Truly. He spent most the time gagging, and he ended up with tears running down his face and drool pouring down his chin. His fingers were curled up into fists, clutching at the fabric of Dutch’s pants. Dutch didn’t take it easy on him for a second. He gripped a tight handful of Arthur’s light-colored hair to hold his head still as he bucked in, fucking his mouth and the back of his throat in earnest.

John wasn’t tempted to look away even once. He knew he’d get scolded for not paying close enough attention. This was for him as much as it was for Arthur, a show for him to watch, a lesson for him to learn, an extremely graphic visual representation of who the alpha on top was. Literally.

More than that, it was mesmerizing to watch. Arthur’s soft struggling was so unlike him, so belittling in a way. And Dutch. God, Dutch. He was a hell of an alpha in a lot of ways. He oozed charisma and had an unmatched presence. Physically, though, he was shorter and slighter than Arthur was. It was amazing to see him towering over Arthur with a literal hold on him, making him look so small and susceptible in comparison.

John wasn’t the only one watching, either. The tent was wide open. Anyone walking past could see what was going on.

The camp had grown much bigger than just the handful of people that it had started out with. It would always be the five of them; John, Arthur, Dutch, Hosea, and Mrs. Grimshaw. They often found themselves in the company of like-minded individuals, though. Fellas who were good at being bad and were happy to be a part of a group even if that meant they had to share a cut of their take whenever they made themselves some money.

Mostly it was other betas who had come to join them. Other alphas and Dutch didn’t always seem to get along. It was no fault of Dutch’s own. Not everyone could be as willing and subservient as Arthur, here. Other alphas were too proud to open their mind to Dutch and his ideas. Betas were a little more temperate, a little easier to agree with. They came more willingly.

So, it was a pair of betas, two men that had joined up with the gang a few weeks back, who had been walking by, minding their own business until they caught the sound of that delicious gagging. Now they were stopped outside the tent with their arms folded over their chests, watching critically. It was a hell of a sight to see. John didn’t blame them for being taken in, but he did feel a sliver of shame on Arthur’s behalf. Lord, this was a trial of humiliation. And all for what? A chance to bite John? John had never even said he wanted Arthur to mate with him during his heat...!

When Dutch was ready to come, he pulled back and jerked himself off the rest of the way. With Arthur’s messy saliva coating his cock, the noises as he fisted himself were all wet and slick. Arthur sat ragged on his knees, throat rattling as he wheezed in breath after breath that he’d previously been denied because Dutch’s cock had been blocking his airway.

Hot seed, white and thick, landed in splattered ropes on Arthur’s face. Across the bridge of his eyebrows, in his hair, on his cheek. He kept his mouth open like Dutch ought to aim in there so he could swallow it all down, but Dutch had other plans apparently.

When it was all done and he had stroked every last drop of come from his cock, he heaved a breath of relief. There was seed on his fingers from where he hadn’t quite shot his load but instead it came pulsing out, dripping down the head of his cock to catch on his hand. He wiped it across Arthur’s bottom lip in a particularly familiar way. Arthur didn’t turn his head to fight it like John did.

“There, now.” Dutch’s dark hair was slick with sweat, falling out of place some. He smoothed it back with his clean hand. “I don’t think there will be any confusion about who the alpha is between the two of us. Wouldn’t you agree, Arthur?”

“Yes, alpha,” Arthur rasped.

Dutch looked over at John, an intense look in his eyes. “John?”

“Yes, alpha,” John agreed. He felt about as breathless as Arthur, but for a whole different reason.

“You’re certain?” Dutch asked, raising up his eyebrows. “I don’t need to have my way with him, do I? Get him down on all fours, presenting himself. Knot him properly?”

Arthur went tense all over, eyes flashing panicked-like to John.

John shook his head at once. “No, alpha. You don’t need to,” he said in a rush.

Although it might serve Arthur right to learn what it was like to be taken all rough, John didn’t actually want that to happen. He hadn’t wanted _any_ of this to happen. They were in deep enough. Dutch didn’t need to knot anyone. His point was well made already.

John hauled himself down to the ground, on his knees like Arthur was. He got himself settled at Dutch’s feet, hoping this act would convey more than words that he was crystal clear on who the alpha in charge was. John reached out for Arthur’s shoulder, tugging on it until Arthur turned to face him. Then he leaned in to lick the stripe of come painted on his cheek away. John didn’t swallow it, though. He licked his lips, messily spreading it around with his tongue.

Dutch smirked, bemused, like he couldn’t believe how these two scoundrels had grown into such loyal subjects. “Alright, you two, get out of here.”

John thought Arthur would be mad at him. Like this was his fault somehow. Except he wasn’t mad at all. He was a little humbled, but not angry about what he’d had to endure just to have a chance with John. They still didn’t know when his heat would come, and this was a hell of a lot of effort to go through for an unknown future.

It did come though, eventually. It was inevitable. All omegas went into heat. John liked to think maybe he was different, or above all that, but he really wasn’t.

He didn’t know what was happening at first, and wasn’t that the cliché? He was off by himself, fishing, trying to catch some dinner. It was deep in the middle of summer, and even with the sun going down it was hot as hell out. It would be another sweaty night, tossing and turning, too miserable to sleep.

Except John got a weird chill down his spine that made him shiver. He’d been feeling off all afternoon, like he’d lifted something heavy the wrong way and his back was in protest over it. The ache kept getting worse, and now he was getting the chills. He wondered if there wasn’t something else wrong with him. He didn’t assume heat, but instead figured it was some other kind of sickness.

If he was in heat, he should be feeling hot, right? That made the most sense. Why else would they call it heat? Except he wasn’t hot; he was cold, and getting colder. He kept shivering, fishing pole rattling, line wiggling and making ripples in the water. He realized then he ought to pack it in, and it was possibly his last moment of clarity for a good long while.

It was just so cold. So damn cold. He shivered and shook and struggled to walk back from the edge of the river he’d been fishing out of. The ground was all rocks. He thought maybe he could make it to the grass and lay down there, but he didn’t make it to the grass. Fishing pole abandoned somewhere, he couldn’t even remember when he dropped it, John ended up on his knees on the sharp craggy ground with his teeth chattering.

What was this? Was he dying? Lord, he didn’t want to die. Not yet.

It was Arthur who came to his rescue, because of course it was. He was just suddenly there, climbing down from his horse, hurrying over.

“Marston?” He actually sounded worried.

He put his arm around John’s shoulders to steady him and his body heat was a desperately needed spark of warmth. Like a scrap of food after a week of starving. Like a sip of water after days of thirst. Like a warm fire in the middle of a cruel winter. He was _so warm_. John pushed himself against Arthur, clinging to him, burying his cold nose against Arthur’s warm throat.

“M’dying,” John whimpered, scared.

“Oh, Jesus,” Arthur muttered.

He breathed in John’s sweaty hair, burying his nose in it for a long moment. He had to literally shake his head to come to his senses, and when he was right again, he scooped John into his arms the way alphas did, carrying their mate over the threshold.

“You’re not dying,” he said, hefting John up in order to get a better hold on him. John curled closer, craving more of Arthur’s warmth. “You’re in heat. Shit. C’mon. Gotta get you back to camp... to Dutch.”

John whimpered helplessly. It didn’t make sense. If he was in heat why did he feel so damn cold?

He slid his cold hand under Arthur’s shirt, trying to find more of that body heat that he craved, the only thing keeping him from shivering to pieces. Arthur cursed at him and pushed his hand away.

“Quit that. I can’t have my way with you until Dutch does.”

He pried John off of him and stuck him up on the back of his mare. John thought he might cry from the loss of touch, and the few seconds it took for Arthur to mount up after him were icy torture. As soon as he could he plastered himself against Arthur again, nuzzling up under his chin, angling for more skin on skin so the heat could sink through.

John didn’t remember anything about the ride back to camp at all, just shivering and moaning. Every time he tried to push his hands under Arthur’s clothes, Arthur barked at him to stop. They rode dangerously fast, cutting through the countryside like a hot knife through soft butter.

Then they were back at camp, and Arthur was pulling him down from the horse, cradling him to his chest. Arthur didn’t even hitch the animal up; he just went rushing off to Dutch’s tent with John in his arms.

Dutch had his mirror set out and was standing in front of it without his shirt on, shaving with a straight razor. He was just about finished; all the white lather was gone from his neck and face. He was lucky he didn’t have the razor pressed to his skin when Arthur thundered in, carrying a whimpering John with him.

Arthur started in explaining the situation at once. John only caught fragments of what he was saying, too busy suffering. The rich scent of alpha washed over him. It was soaked into Dutch’s tent, concentrated here. It smelled so good that it settled John for a moment, stopped him from shivering so violently.

When Arthur tried to set him down, John’s legs could barely hold his weight. He clung to Arthur still, desperate for him, until he felt Dutch’s hand sliding over his back. He was searingly hot, and all that bare skin on display was just the thing John needed. He pushed himself into Dutch’s embrace, nuzzling into the burly black hair on Dutch’s chest.

“Easy, John,” Dutch was telling him, but John couldn’t take it easy. He wanted to be warm so badly. “Hold it there, Arthur. Stay and help me with him.”

Together they stripped John of his clothes, and wasn’t that better? Without the fabric in the way, John could push himself on Dutch skin-to-skin and the body heat could sink in real easy. John went from desperately clinging, impeding the process, to helpfully hurrying out of the clothes that Dutch and Arthur unbuttoned and pulled away.

“Smells so good,” Arthur growled, voice a low rumble.

John had heard him growl before, plenty of times. There was something different about this, though. It penetrated him, reverberating. The rumble curled up in the pit of his stomach, hot and erotic. John moaned, wanting more.

“And wet already,” Dutch mused.

He slid his hand, shiny rings on his fingers, between John’s thighs. Sure enough, they were damp. John hadn’t even realized, too distracted by everything else happening to him. He’d never been this wet before. He thought all those dirty songs about omegas dripping slick all the way down to their ankles were just an exaggeration, but this wasn’t an exaggeration at all.

“John,” Dutch addressed him, raising his voice, putting some aggression in it. It curled up inside of him the way Arthur’s growling did, squirming around inside, making him moan helplessly. “Get down on your hands and knees and present. You hear me, son?”

A weird conflict clouded John’s mind. Part of him still desperately wanted to shove his body against Dutch’s to be warm. But another part, the part low in the pit of his stomach where the timbre of Dutch’s voice had settled, roiling around in him, told him he ought to follow orders instead. He whimpered helplessly, not wanting to lose that body heat, but went to get on his hands and knees anyway.

He gave in and got down on all fours. He pushed his face to the ground and his ass in the air, showing it off, begging to be taken. Dutch took off the rest of his clothes and told Arthur to do the same. Apparently, he was going to be a part of this from start to finish, not just an interloper swooping in after the fact to stamp John with his mating bite after Dutch had.

Dutch knelt down behind John and spread one of his cheeks wide to get a better view of his hole. John was dripping, clear slick rolling in beads down from his hole towards his cock and balls.

“What a sight,” Dutch murmured, sounding especially pleased.

He pushed one of his fingers in, and John realized he could barely feel it. He was better at taking fingers than he was at taking cock, but even then, Dutch’s big thumb and forefinger usually met resistance whenever he tried to put them up inside John’s body. There was no resistance this time. There was nearly no sensation at all.

John didn’t really feel it until Dutch pushed two of his fingers in deep. It wasn’t painful, though. It felt good? Those fingers were so warm. Having them deep inside felt like he was being warmed from the inside out. He wanted more. He pushed his ass back, inviting Dutch to put something else, something bigger in there.

“So eager,” Dutch smiled. “Hush, John. Your alpha’s gonna take good care of you.”

Hush? John didn’t even realize he was making noise. Now that it had been pointed out, he noticed he was pleading desperately; “please, Dutch, please Dutch, please alpha, I need it.”

When had he started running his mouth? Why couldn’t he find the will to stop?

Dutch lined that thick cock of his up and thrust it in, sinking it all the way to the hilt. John honest to God screamed. Not because it hurt. No. For once in his entire life it hadn’t hurt at all. It felt so good. So damn good it brought tears to his eyes. He pushed his hips back again, shoving himself deeper onto Dutch’s cock.

It was unreal how good it felt. The heat of it was one thing; Dutch’s hot cock burning some of the shivering cold away. The size, though. The thickness. John felt stretched, to be sure, but in the best way. Like when he stretched his arms over his head after a long night on the cold ground. Like his body had been waiting for this for so, so long.

Dutch started fucking him in earnest, and John’s eyes rolled back into his head. The friction of searing flesh sliding against his inner walls was desperately needed. The actual feeling of being thrust into was so deliciously satisfying. John hadn’t known that this could feel good, that the drag of a hot cock through his hole could be an enjoyable sensation. That there were parts inside of him that lit up with pleasure when nudged by Dutch’s cock.

Dutch got into better position, draping himself over John’s body. Skin to skin. Another type of warmth to combat the cold. John almost felt right again. He was feeling so good, in fact, he wondered if he hadn’t died beside that river after all, and this was some type of omega heaven where thick alpha cocks actually felt good and being smothered with their scent was actually welcomed.

John was absent-mindedly babbling, begging for more. Dutch obliged and fucked him hard and fast, pounding into him mercilessly. With so much slick to ease the way, it made sex a whole hell of a lot easier. John was enjoying every second of it. He could feel sensations of Dutch getting thicker, as if he wasn’t thick enough.

“Ready for my knot?” Dutch asked, when the engorged bulge of it started catching on John’s rim.

John whimpered and nodded. He knew it wouldn’t hurt this time. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, but he did. Dutch didn’t growl exactly, too dignified a man to succumb to such base an instinct, but he didn’t rumble with pleasure, a hot purr that rose from deep in his throat. He thrust his cock in and out a few more times, teasing John with the size of his knot as it grew, until finally he pushed it in.

A feeling so intense washed over John, so euphoric that his mind went black. Just for a few seconds. When he came to, Dutch had his hand wrapped around John’s cock, stroking it smoothly as it spurted. His knot was locked tight in John’s ass. His teeth were sunk into John’s shoulder. That hurt a little, a sharp pain to contrast all the pleasure he was feeling. Dutch’s hips stuttered forward, and John found himself clenching involuntarily, milking the fat knot inside of him.

Dutch’s come was so hot, it smashed through the last vestiges of cold plaguing John. The relief of finally, finally being warm sent John spiraling into an immediate second climax. He screamed again, helplessly, cock jerking and pulsing out more release. His body convulsed tight around Dutch’s knot, squeezing it. Dutch sank his teeth in harder. John was shivering again, shuddering, but this time it was from a pleasure so intense he didn’t know if he would survive it.

When his climax finally crested and began to ebb away, John lost all grip he had on reality and his mind flickered to black again. It wasn’t until Dutch began carefully extracting himself that John came back to his senses. It usually took ten minutes, at the very least, for a knot to deflate. Had he been out that long? He was still breathing heavy. He felt sensitive all over, like a small breeze might shatter him.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Dutch promised him.

John was crying? When did he start crying? A stray thought of embarrassment crossed through his mind. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, and he certainly didn’t want to be doing it now in front of Dutch and Arthur. He couldn’t help it, though. The same way he couldn’t help the chills that had overcome him at the river, or the words he’d been babbling when Dutch started in on him.

“Why don’t you clean him up a little?” Dutch asked Arthur. He had moved away to sit down and catch his breath.

Not needing to be told twice, and obviously desperate to be involved, Arthur took up Dutch’s position behind John. He reached out for the omega’s hips and slid him back, pulling him close. He buried his face between those smooth cheeks and started licking up Dutch’s come from John’s hole.

John was so sensitive he cried out softly. He wanted to reach back and push Arthur away. The feeling of a soft, lithe tongue sliding around inside of him was almost too much. He didn’t end up pushing Arthur away at all, though. Arthur was being as tender as he’d ever been, taking care and consideration now that it mattered most. John didn’t have the heart to shove him off, so he whimpered his way through it instead.

“How’s that feel, son?” Dutch asked.

John couldn’t really form words at the moment. Dutch laughed, accepting his whimpers as answer. When Arthur emerged from between John’s cheeks, slick and come coating his face, Dutch jerked his chin towards him.

“How’s that taste?”

“S’good,” Arthur gruffed before diving in for more.

“Don’t be greedy, Arthur. Let John have some.”

Arthur switched his tongue out for two fingers, circling them around John’s hole. He scooped out some of Dutch’s seed. He brought it to John’s mouth, and John could do little more than accept it as two salty fingers slid inside. Seed coated his tongue. He licked at Arthur, tongue swirling around his knuckles as he caught every last drop.

Suddenly he wanted seed all over him, on his skin, in his hair, over his lips.

“More,” John pleaded. He looked to Dutch helplessly. “Please, more. I need your come, alpha. All of it.”

Dutch laughed fondly. “Don’t worry. Your heat’ll last a few nights, still. A week, if we’re lucky. You’ll be plenty covered and completely full by the time we’re done.”

Oh, John wanted that very much.

He laid there in the grass for a good long while, recovering. He realized now, after the fact, that he’d had his very first orgasm. First and second. He kind of understood why Dutch and Arthur were always so interested in sticking it in him, fucking him until they came, too. If it felt that good, he didn’t blame them one bit for always doing it.

When he started shivering again, cold creeping in on him, he reached out for the nearest alpha to pull them close and keep him warm. Arthur. Big and naked, the perfect blanket.

“Go on, you can mark him too,” Dutch allowed. Arthur had earned it, after all. Had choked down fat alpha cock for the privilege of mounting John here and now.

Before the cold got too much to bare Arthur got to work warming John up. He sank his hot cock in deep and worked up a fiery friction with all his thrusting. He pulled John to sit up in his lap so he could press his front to John’s back, body heat passing through where they were pressed skin to skin. He was growling the whole time, a constant low vibration that drove John wild. He bucked up into John quick and easy, cock pressing in deep, deep, deep.

John devolved into a shaking mess, begging for Arthur’s knot and all of his come. Arthur gave it to him, of course. As he pushed his knot in past John’s rim, he sank his teeth into the tender skin of John’s shoulder, half overlapping Dutch’s bite. It hurt way more than the first mating bite, but the mind-blowing orgasm chased most of the pain away.

John only went black for a few seconds this time, and when he came to Arthur was still locked inside of him, licking at the dual bites on his shoulder, cleaning up any blood that beaded up there.

Before the night was through, John ended up sandwiched between both alphas. He pressed his face into the burl of Dutch’s chest, nuzzling him where he was furry, and the scent of his sweat was strong. Arthur was plastered against his back, nose in John’s hair. He felt so safe and warm between them. He found himself smiling like an idiot.

It had been so incredibly naïve of John to think no one would fuck him when he joined the gang.

He was glad to be wrong. 

**Author's Note:**

> (if i missed any tags, please lmk. ty!)
> 
> send requests or prompts ➝ [here](https://curiouscat.me/deathtouch)  
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> thanks for reading ✩°｡⋆


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